


A Man and His Brat

by cuethe_pulse



Category: Gravitation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuethe_pulse/pseuds/cuethe_pulse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of reposted Gravitation drabbles and ficlets from my livejournal glory days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. do i need any other reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Shuichi thinks he’s into this kind of thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on livejournal, March 2012.

He was leaving the market when Shuichi called him, fresh packets of cigarettes in every pocket, one opened but soon abandoned when the hushed voice on the phone told him how hard he was, begged him to hurry home.

“What brought this on?” It hardly mattered; the faint beginnings of arousal were already stirring in his groin.

“You exist,” the singer moaned into his ear, sending a shiver through him. “Do I need any other reason?”

It was really a miracle of self-restraint that kept Eiri from sprinting back home.

He started unbuttoning his shirt once he entered the apartment and kicked his shoes off, shrugging to send it falling off his shoulders, down his arms, leaving it behind in the hallway. His fingers were working at his belt buckle when he reached the bedroom, the growing hardness confined in his pants jerking in anticipation as he toed the door open and a whimper reached out to him from the boy—

The boy who was reclining on his bed in that schoolgirl uniform. The one Eiri knew he’d thrown out at least five times. Somehow, Shuichi was convinced that he found it sexy, even though he’d made it perfectly clear on numerous occasions that—

“Yuki…”

Well, he supposed that like this, with Shuichi flushed and wanting and that skirt doing precious little to cover his blushing erection, it didn’t look so bad.

Still. He’d taken a stance. He had to stick to it.

“Yuki!”

He turned and left the room, ignoring the protest of both his lover and his body.

\--

Eiri closed his eyes, tried to focus on the tongue traveling down his stomach. Muscles jumped beneath the wet heat of Shuichi’s mouth, involuntary spasms that made the boy chuckle against him. Teeth nibbled at the skin below his navel while fingers crept below the waistband of his boxers, tugged down. A lick to his hipbone.

Eiri’s brow furrowed and he tried to give in, tried to let go, but his hand reached down to settle in Shuichi’s hair and touched furry dog ears instead and he couldn’t—

“Do you _have_ to wear that?”

Shuichi lifted his head, tongue hanging out of his grinning mouth, a spark in his eyes like he knew some deep dark secret about the writer’s kinkiest fantasies. Which was completely stupid because he didn’t even like dogs.

“Ugh.” He sat up, shoved at the boy in the heavy dog costume until he went rolling off the bed. “Go get run over.”

\--

Now this was just ridiculous.

Shuichi, almost completely encased in his battery costume (and why did he even have that?), rubbed against him as much as he could, cooing, “C’mon, Yuki, insert me~”

“That doesn’t…” Eiri sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wouldn’t even try. There was no getting through to this idiot. “Just stop.”

\--

A Bad Luck t-shirt. A small hole in one armpit and mysterious stains on the front. Jeans, a little too big for him, that he’d cut off at the knees. Mismatched socks that had lost their elasticity and kept falling down around his ankles.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

Eiri pulled him onto his lap once he was close enough, slipping his hands down the back of the boy’s jean-shorts and watching his face change color.

“Really?” Shuichi squirmed a little, trying not to smile too much; Eiri helped him by biting at his bottom lip. “But—why?”

_You exist._

And no costume could top that.


	2. (Un)spoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was prompted with "quiet me (one character trying to calm another down)" .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on livejournal, January 2013.

It was the loudest silence they’d ever shared.

Eiri lay on his back with the palm of one hand over his face and Shuichi turned onto his side to watch him. Eiri’s panic was wordless, the only sign he felt anything at all was the erratic fall and rise of his chest. Shuichi could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen the other man like this and he didn’t want to think about why he was seeing it now, didn’t want to think about why he hadn’t left the bed, didn’t want to think about any of this, really, especially not the incredible way it’d felt in that first moment when he’d just started to push inside—

They’d tried. And it was good enough that they’d tried, right? He could live with the mere fact that Eiri had been willing to try.

He wanted to say so, he wanted to say _something_. Through the quiet, he knew Eiri’s thoughts, his memories, were deafening to the writer. Shuichi didn’t want to lose him to _them_ —guilt that he couldn’t go through it, that he’d pushed the singer off and away from him; fear that Shuichi had seen in the clench of his jaw from the moment they started to the moment they stopped; regret that he’d agreed in the first place; recollections of the old apartment in New York; and anger, anger he always seemed to save solely for himself, no matter who else deserved it.

Shuichi opened his mouth to speak, but the name he was so used to and definitely could not say at the moment was on his tongue, so he stopped and struggled to think through his nerves and the dissipating heat of arousal before he tried again. “Eiri?”

It took him some time to answer and it wasn’t with words, nothing more than an exhale of acknowledgement.

Several sentences battled in Shuichi’s throat; so often, he was the one who needed calming and Eiri was so rarely pushed to the point of being _like this_ in front of him, that finding the right thing to say—or anything to say at all—felt strange and confusing.

“It’s really okay, you know.” As soon as he said it, he expected no response and that was exactly what he got. His fingers scrunched up their bedsheets as he pressed on, “Actually, it’s…probably better we don’t do it this way.” This earned him a scoff, which he saw as improvement. “No, I’m serious. You know I always finish too quickly anyway, so I’d probably suck at it.”

He still didn’t talk, but he made a sound that was close enough to a chuckle for Shuichi to be hopeful. Eiri lifted his hand after another moment and looked at him with eyes that were dry—thank _god_ ; when Eiri cried it felt like the end of the world—and, though guardedly troubled, relieved. Shuichi moved toward him and was welcomed into a one-arm embrace, close enough to press his ear to his lover’s chest.

The silence that followed was different, quieter, and Shuichi’s own reassurance was found in the heartbeat he could feel and hear as it slowly relaxed beneath him.


	3. Poof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very specific form of writer's block.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on livejournal, March 2010.

“And then—poof.”

Mizuki leans back in her chair, feeling exhausted. Like she’s just run a marathon. Or just the read the entire book—the one the author sitting across from her had just described—in one breath. She’s not sure which one would be worse. “Poof?”

“Poof.” Eiri nods twice, once with uncharacteristic hesitance and again, firmly. “They—vanish. Together.”

“Vanish,” Mizuki repeats. “Vanish into what?” The slow shrugging of his shoulders signals a migraine for her. “Into—death, maybe? Some sort of eternal limbo?”

“If you want.” He sounds utterly unconcerned.

She rubs at her temple and sighs. “You’re not being serious with me, are you? You have to finish it.”

Eiri matches her sigh with one of his own, exaggeratedly more dramatic, as he picks up a pack of cigarette off his desk. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

She watches, frustration fading away into understanding, as he places a cigarette between his lips and looks thoughtfully at the sticker photo on his lighter.

“I can’t write an unhappy ending.”


	4. A Major Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuichi was fairly certain this was one of Those moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on livejournal, April 2009.

The first time Shuichi managed to stick some of Riku’s artwork on the refrigerator without having Eiri rip it off was seen by the singer as a major turning point. Shuichi watched over the remnants of his dinner as Eiri closed the fridge door after retrieving a beer and frowned at the picture.

“What the fuck is that supposed to be?”

“A dinosaur,” Shuichi said at the same time Riku told him it was a cow; he covered with a cough and amended, “Duh, Yuki, it’s totally a cow.”

Eiri arched a skeptical eyebrow as he looked over the not-quite masterpiece, and Shuichi held his breath, releasing it when the writer merely popped open his beer can and turned away. “If you say so. You finished your dinner, kid?”

Riku looked down at his nearly empty plate, nodding only after Shuichi took pity on him and scraped the untouched vegetables onto his own plate.

“Then get lost.”

Shuichi opened his mouth to protest the harsh-sounding words, but bit his tongue as Riku nodded again and took his plate to the writer, who accepted it wordlessly and placed it in the sink. A pleased smile tugged at his lips as he watched them.

“G’night, Riku,” he said, waggling his fingers at the young boy; his heart flipped when he received a “goodnight, Momma” in return.

“Goodnight, Da—”

“Night.”

Riku left, slowly, his sock-covered feet padding down the hallway to the guest room, which, by now, could practically be called his. Shuichi turned his gaze to Eiri, placing his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his laced fingers as he thought. This was it, wasn’t it? This was one of Those moments. One of those normal, peaceful, content moments that normal, peaceful, content families ( _families_ ) had. He’d almost stopped thinking that the three of them were capable of having those moments, but now he had (a picture of a dinosaur-cow on the fridge) some _hope_.

“What are you grinning for?” Eiri asked, sounding suspicious.

Shuichi just shook his head, his smile unwavering. “Nothing.” _Just everything._


	5. Band-Aids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiri requires a little fixing. Compliant with volume 1 of Gravitation Ex only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on livejournal, September 2009.

When Shuichi got home, he found Riku on a stool in the bathroom, little arms reaching up toward the medicine cabinet. Smiling a little indulgently, he came up behind the boy and opened the cabinet.

“What do you need, sweetie?” he asked, and felt a faint twinge of motherly panic-concern when Riku pointed to the box of Pikachu band-aids. “Are you hurt?”

Riku shook his head and held his hands out for the box, stepping down from the stool when he received it. He padded off quickly down the hall and Shuichi followed him, brow furrowing as they headed toward Eiri’s study.

“Is—is Yuki hurt?”

Riku glanced up at him with his big eyes and nodded, reached over and tugged at Shuichi’s sleeve, pulling him along faster. Shuichi’s heart pounded rapidly as they got closer. He hated leaving his lover at home in his condition, just in case something like _this_ happened. He held his breath as Riku opened the study door, preparing himself for pools of blood or something equally gross and horrible.

But when he got inside, all he saw was Eiri sitting at his desk, idly pressing the same button on his laptop keyboard continuously. Aside from tilting his head slightly toward the door, he made no acknowledgement of their presence. He sat still as Riku approached him and climbed into his lap and, with the careful tenderness of a mother, started applying Pikachu band-aids to his face.

"Wh-What is he doing?”

Eiri waited until Riku was done putting a band-aid on the space between his eyes and said, “I told him I was broken.”

“Yuki!” He hissed, going over to smack the writer lightly on the back of the head. “Don’t tell him things like that!”

“Why not?” Eiri asked, arching an eyebrow and looking genuinely confused; once again, Shuichi found himself questioning how this beautiful man could be so _stupid_ sometimes. “It’s the truth.”

“You’re not broken, you’re just…” Shuichi trailed off, uncertain how to continue, and sighed, sifting his fingers through the writer’s hair.

“If I’m not broken, I’m pretty damn close,” he muttered before waving Riku’s hands out of his face. “That’s enough.”

Riku nodded and slid off his lap and onto the floor. He closed the box of band-aids and silently left the room, looking rather proud and pleased with himself. Eiri resumed pressing the same button and Shuichi watched him, petting his hair gently.

“This…wouldn’t have anything to do with last night, would it?”

Eiri stilled for a moment and Shuichi vaguely wondering how the man remembered events he hadn’t been able to see. Shuichi remembered it vividly. The first time they’d tried to sleep together since the accident (tried being the keyword). He’d actually thought there’d been something incredibly arousing about the way Eiri’s hands had blindly searched his body beneath the bed sheets. But apparently he’d been the only one. He’d never thought he’d hear those words from Eiri Yuki—“I can’t,” whispered in hoarse disbelief against his lips.

“It’s okay,” he said, like he’d said last night, brushing his fingers over the softer hair at the back of the other man’s neck.

“Like hell it is,” Eiri snapped. “I need to fuck.”

Shuichi clamped his hand over Eiri’s mouth, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Riku hadn’t returned; he couldn’t have gotten very far, anyway. “Don’t say that word,” he chastised. “Say—I don’t know—copulate.”

Eiri snorted, mumbled against his fingers, “We’re _definitely_ not copulating, honeybunch.”

Shuichi sniffed hard and tried to quell the nosebleed he felt coming on at hearing the half-affectionate, half-sarcastic pet name. He took his hand off the writer’s mouth and started slowly peeling off the band-aids, leaning down and kissing the re-exposed spots of skin. Eiri grimaced slightly but Shuichi ignored that, holding his head still with one hand as he kissed his forehead, bridge of his nose, cheeks, jaw, ear, bottom lip, upper lip.

“I don’t think cute Pikachu band-aids are going to help,” he teased as his kisses became more and more purposeful. “But I’ll try to fix you, if you want.”

Eiri seemed to consider the offer for about ten seconds before his hand sought out his laptop and closed it. Shuichi giggled a little as Eiri turned his head to find his lips. But they stopped before deepening the kiss any further when Riku walked in and Shuichi had to convince him that Eiri _really_ didn’t need to super glued.


End file.
